“You seriously can not think a plan that simple will actually work.” a statement, not a question said by Cat as they walked away from God – ‘The Now – British and Western European sector – 500 to 2500 AD Special Investigations Bureau’ small dingy office.
“Yep. That’s it.” continued Bast. “We go back to the place and time prior to her first kill here in the now, before she gains much more power. It’s easy, then we black bag her, and skull drag her back to Death.”
“What and then it’s home for tea and medals? That sort of thing?” added Maude sarcastically, “she’ll see us coming a mile off, and scarper before we even get a look at her! No, it won’t work.”
“No, I tell you it will. We might want to borrow Mr. Darcy though, I imagine a nose like his, with that delightful temperament to boot can only be a plus.”
“Not likely,” said Maude, “the only person that can control him is Death and the other three pets of the Horsewomen of the Apocalypse. And he farts like a demon. It is bloody awful driving him around in the car. You’ve got to leave the windows down the whole damned time, and by the time you get out, even your clothes stink of Mr. Darcy fart. I burnt the last lot of clothes I had on after he rode with us. No. It is not happening.
“Okay, so we forget Mr. Darcy. It will still work.”
“‘Bet you a drachma it doesn’t.” spruiked Cat. “Actually, I bet you two.”
“Count me in on that one,” added Maude. “I’ll even double it.”
“Well, if that’s the case, we might as well go back over God’s notes, and get on with it.” said Bast.
With that, all three jumped into the battered VW, and disappear in a cloud of smoke to Bast’s Parisian flat. Firm preparations had finally begun.
A bit of a boogie for a Friday, click the picture above.
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